


Stranger

by pocketsizedquasar



Category: Moby Dick - Herman Melville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketsizedquasar/pseuds/pocketsizedquasar
Summary: When they first met, Ishmael was afraid. when they last saw each other, Ishmael was afraid. Here is everything in between.





	Stranger

It starts like this, fear and trepidation in the current of his veins, something new and unknown edging the corner of his vision. Hindsight will tell him he should not have been afraid, but in the moment all he sees is _stranger_.

Perhaps that is why they take to each other so quickly. This immigrant, foreigner, stranger, borne across currents to a strange land, strange people, strange language, is so clearly out of place, so clearly alien and wrong. So perhaps it is no surprise that he and the orphan cling to each other against the unforgiving sea around them.

 

It goes like this, clumsiness and warmth in the island that they are, something strange and familiar as they edge around each other's lives. Hindsight will tell him to be careful, love, there is a storm coming, but in the moment all he sees is _friend_.

They stumble around each other; this friend fumbles his way through his stitched-together English and the orphan troubles himself with a strange new language he never thought would cross his tongue. A language comprised of peripheral glances and passing touches, knowing smiles and gentle nudges. A language they share in the wide-open sea around them.

 

It hurts like this, all the warnings and premonitions in the stormy air, something foreboding and dangerous dancing on the horizon. Hindsight will have no wisdom to give but to hold onto what he sees in the moment as _love_.

They know they are going to die - they live on borrowed time written in final wills and stolen contracts months and lifetimes ago. The orphan has seen this all before, seen death's skyline dance a dozen times, so he wonders why, for the first time, he looks out at the brewing storm and feels afraid. But then, there he is again; lover, language, land. A reason to be afraid of death. A promise of safety if only he could get to it, a glimmer of hope in the stormy sea around them.

 

It ends like this, fear and trepidation in the current of his veins, something new and unknown edging the corner of his vision. Hindsight will tell him to look back, look behind you, look at that great expanse of whiteness that will take away everything you know.

But he doesn't. He doesn't look at the whale behind him or the men beside him or the tragic god in front of him. In the moment, the orphan pulls the great oars towards the dance behind and looks out at the distant ship ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of stranger, friend, lover. He knows he is going to die, but at least he can pray that that stranger on his own rocky island will be kept safe.

Hindsight will tell him it was foolish, it was naive, it was madness. You are alone now, you orphan, you foreigner, you stranger, alone as you cling to a dead man's coffin and wonder at a language you've lost.

 

He survives like this, alive and alone, a stranger in his own right now, with no land, no language, no people. Just the current and the unforgiving sea around him.


End file.
